


Common

by Curiaso



Series: Mr. and Mrs. Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gun Violence, Husbands, M/M, Marriage, Mycroft gets hurt, Same-Sex Marriage, Shooting, Wanting children, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 01:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curiaso/pseuds/Curiaso
Summary: Mycroft gets hurt and family worries.OrA peek into Mycroft and Matilda's marriage.





	Common

John rested his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands as he rubbed vigorously at gritty eyes. To his left Sherlock paced a tense line back and forth, hands ruffling his hair, crossing across his chest, uncrossing and fluffing his hair yet again, before the cycle repeated. As much as he pretended he didn't care about his brother, it was moments like this when the human beneath the aloof act he put on peeked through. It warmed and worried John all at once.

“Sherlock it’s going to be-” 

The double doors to the door burst open then, “I came as soon as I heard, where is he? How is he? Sherlock?” 

“Matilda.” John sighed, standing and awkwardly accepting a harried hug from the much taller woman. As she pulled away, John inspected her face. She wasn't wearing any cosmetic products today, which meant she looked like she’d only just woken. Her hair, which had always been sleek and pulled back whenever he’d seen her, was wild and surrounding her thin face. Her clothes were baggy and clearly put on in a fast panic, trying to get out the house. The overall look was one making her look years younger, and yet so much more tired than her usual put together self. 

“How is he?” She managed to barely whisper, her hands coming up to her mouth, as if preparing to block any noise that came out in the chance of bad news. 

“They aren't finished operating. We’re just… waiting." Sherlock's voice paused at the outrage at being forced to wait for anything this important. "It’s ludicrous. They should have let John in, I don’t see why they wouldn't let a perfectly qualified army surgeon in to assist, it makes no-” 

“Sherlock!” John interrupted, reaching a hand to rub at his husbands arm. “Calm down. These are highly experienced surgeons, who know what they’re doing. Mycroft is getting the best care he possibly could receive.” John did his best to reassure both Holmes’, looking between them as he spoke. 

Matilda collapsed into the chair John had been sitting in, looking for all the world as if she’d deflated. There was nothing she or he, or any of them could do. It was in the hands of the surgeons now. 

~0~

"Sorry about that." Her voice seemed surprised, like she didn't know how it had happened. The man before her, beginning to bald despite being only 25 or so gave an inaudible sigh. He pursed his lips to keep them from curling in annoyance. 

"It's fine." He bent down to pick up the paperwork, but startled a bit when thin, pale hands began helping him pick the scattered bits of information. 

"No, really. I'm very sorry. Its a safe bet you had these all in a particular order. If you like, I could help you put them back. I've very good at it." He blinked, taking in the bags under her eyes (still noticeable despite the makeup she wore) and the blond bun that sat at the nape of her neck. Law studies, judging by the attire. Ah, and the shoes of course. The eyes only went to support it. She was from a Norwegian family, first generation judging by the accent. Not even there, but still lingering on the wisp of her words. The pride of her parents for going into such a prestigious career, and school. Only 24, if the lines in her face were telling the truth. 

"No, it's fine." He cleared his throat, "But thank you for aiding me in picking them up." They rose simultaneously and she stacked her pile on top his. 

"Well, have a good day!" 

He didn't think of her again. That is, until the day they met again. 

~0~

It was a long 4 hours before they were given any news. But once 11:15 am came around, one of the doctors came in. Sherlock, for once, was not alone in deducing who the surgeon had just been working on. All three stood abruptly, each feeling anticipation and concern combining into a sickening mixture. 

“It was a long operation, but Mr. Holmes did well, and is in recovery. If you’d like to see him, you may go one at a time, however he won't be awake for another three hours, approximately.” Both men looked towards Matilda, but she had already picked up her back and stepped closer to the Doctor, who still wore spotless scrubs. 

“I’m his wife. I’d like to go first please,” She turned to John and Sherlock. “If you two don’t mind.” It wasn't a question, just a polite version of saying ‘I’m going first and that's the end of it.’ They nodded in agreement nonetheless. 

~0~

"This is Ms. Aaker. You will be working side by side on this case. We need all the help we can get." The man before him was the very same whose job would be handed down to Mycroft. Of course at the time he hadn't known that. At the time he was just another Lawyer fresh out of school. And the women before him was the very same who had knocked the dozens of papers he'd held that far away day, back at school. She and he had both aged since, though only a year. She looked nearly the same, though the lines around her eyes had increased significantly. "Ms. Aaker, this is Mr. Holmes, and Mr. Fowling." Fowling was, in Mycroft's opinion, quite suited to his surname. Fowl. He put on quite a good front, but even from the corner of his eyes Mycroft could tell the man was not pleased to be working with Ms. Aaker. 'Womens Work' in Fowling's mind included cleaning and child rearing. He'd never said so of course, but Mycroft knew this without needing to be told as much. Perhaps the time with Aaker would widen the mans world view. Or, perhaps it would end in tears. Mycroft sorted out the possibilities and likelihood of each circumstance neatly, and smiled his 'I'm being Kind and Polite' smile as he held out a hand to Aaker. 

"It seemed we meet again."

~0~

Mycroft looked…. Normal in the bed. He always slept on his back, and though the tubes disappearing into his arm and the metallic and beeping machinery around him were in stark contrast to the muted dark of their bedroom, they were just background really. Mycroft was still in the center of it all. She took a few cautious steps forward, reaching a hand out to wrap her fingers around the hand that wasn't hindered by any needles. 

“You better wake up, my love. Who's going to tell me which students cheated on their final if you don’t?” Her words were softly spoken, and breathy with the pressure of fear in her lungs. When John had called her about the shot through Mycroft’s shoulder, she’d felt every muscle in her body clench, and every organ in her body go ice cold. It easily took place for worst memory….. The rest of life could never be as terrifying as that moment. 

Looking now, the fear was still there, but relief was beginning to pool through. Matilda’s eyes wandered, landing on their hands. Her wedding and engagement ring set looked so odd being held by his hand, usually so strong but now limp in her grasp. “I’ll be back in no time, but Sherlock wants to see you too.” She squeezed his fingers tight, before letting them go with reluctants. “He never calls, but he’s there when he needs to be, isn't he my love?” She released a weak laugh, before walking out slowly, every bit of her telling her to stay. 

~0~

Fowling and Aaker were like water and oil. It was both exhausting and quite amusing to see them at odds with each other. But alas, Mycroft only got a show for a day and a half. 

The case they were working on was a national diplomats, and was considered hush hush. Mycroft doubted the mind of however had decided Fowling could be involved in anything needing a delicate hand, considering he'd gone to the press by the second day. 

"What a bloody idiot. Now the entire public knows about this, and we seem incompetent as well." Her gaze, grey and piercing, matched the feeling Mycroft was having quite well. Cold fury, bottled for later. 

"We can't allow him to drag us down with him. The best way to prove we are not on the same low level as him is to work twice as hard and do three times as well." He spoke calmly, flicking through a file. 

"Then lets get to work." He glanced up at her, allowing a real smile to slip through. 

"Lets." 

~0~

John sat with Matilda as Sherlock good as ran to see his brother. 

“We tried to have kids, you know?” John’s eyes flickered to her, eyebrows raising. 

“Really?” Her gaze was far away, seeing a memory he had no hope of recognizing. 

“Mmm. It was half hearted on both our sides frankly. He has never wanted children. I’d always had a little fantasy of playing mum, however…. His job. My job. Not particularly conducive to focussing on family life, is it?” Her eyes snapped to John’s face, smile abruptly breaking through the faraway look that had taken over her face. “I’m sorry, that’s probably something you don’t particularly want to know.” 

“No, no its um,” He cleared his throat, “Fine. It’s all fine.” John had only truly known of Matilda for three years, ever since his and Sherlock’s wedding. They had only spent any time with her twice out of the three years. Mycroft usually came when he needed something for work, and Sherlock seemed to have no interest in spending time with either his brother, or his sister-in-law in a casual, familial manner. From what he had seen of her, Matilda seemed a perfectly nice person. A bit strange, granted, for marrying Mycroft. But nice nonetheless. “I never did ask,” John started, “What do you do?”

“Simply put, Law Professor at King’s College. Very busy, a lot of time doing my own work and teaching. And grading work. It would be…. Difficult to have children. Near impossible now, what with how old both Mycroft and I are. Birth defects are at a much higher chance, as I’m sure you know. It's not… It’s an unfulfilled dream I’m afraid. And while I had more or less made my peace with it, now I wonder.” John nodded, trying to pretend the mention of children did not bring his mind back to the anxious excitement he’d felt when he thought he was going to have a baby with Mary. And the inevitable disappointment at losing that chance before it had even been truly realized. 

“Well…. Maybe you and Mycroft can talk about it. There’s always adoption. And if you’re anything like your husband, I’m sure you have a hoard of personal time in need of using hidden away that you’re boss and colleagues likely pray you cash in.” She laughed nodding. 

“You aren't wrong.” 

~0~

It had happened quite suddenly, but they were kissing. Her lips and his were mashed rather uncomfortably, but he wouldn't have it any other way. She was a light weight on his lap, a leg on either side of him. His hands had slid along her sides, and he found himself counting her ribs automatically in the back of his head, as his fingers traced them. Her hands were busy in his thinning hair, tugging at it. They separated only for a quick breath, before meeting once again. He slid a hand from her ribs, to her spine and then down, down, down to where the zipper of her pencil skirt (which at this point had ridden up from her knee to her thigh) was. He unzipped the tiny thing slowly, savoring the sound of it. Her hands left his hair, lips still working, and were now tugging on the buttons of his shirt. 

He pulled back, "We ought to stand and move. The settee is hardly the appropriate place for this." He whispered, tracing a kiss along her jawline. She stood without another word, and let the skirt drop to her feet, stepping out of it elegantly. The heels she wore made a clicking sound that sent shivers down his spine as he took her in, their eyes meeting heatedly. Her hands unbuttoned her blouse slowly, revealing the bra that matched her pants. He did the same to his shirt, the reveal much less exciting in comparison to hers. Matilda stepped close, her hair which usually was pulled back now billowed around her thin face in an angelic halo. She was taller than him in her heels, and it did strange things to him in the pit of his stomach. Her hands slid from his bare chest to the button of his trousers. Mycroft caught her gaze, and didn't leave those grey eyes till he was just as naked as she was. 

"Bedroom?"

~0~

“How terribly common.” Matilda knew Mycroft wasn't going to wax poetic about living through a near death experience, she knew it wasn't his style. But she’d rather hoped for something more than that for his first words after backing away from the brink of oblivion. 

“You idiot man.” She scolded, scowling. “If you ever actually die, I will find some manner of haunting you while I walk among the living, am I understood?!” Mycroft knew his wife, and while he could appreciate the threat, he could also see how shaken she was. 

Her rings, which she wore even asleep, were twisted in the wrong directions from her anxious spinning of them. Her clothes not ironed, her hair it's typical early morning mess. Judging from the clock however, it was not anywhere near morning any longer. His Matilda had left their house in a rush, and had forgotten even to make her traditional black, no sugar, no cream, in her favorite mug. All the data fit perfectly to what he already knew; he’d been shot and it was common, and tedious and horribly predictable.

“Well it wasn't my idea to be shot, was it?” He sniped back, heart not truly in it. His body felt disconnected from his mind, and his mind itself felt floaty and not completely all there. It was disconcerting, not to be operating at his usual 100%. 

Matilda’s glare had softened, and she reached to hold his hand. “I love you. Do you need anything?” He rolled his eyes. 

“Now you ask.” She giggled, head flopping beside their entwined hands, her body seeming to lose a bit of the tension it had initially held.

“Thank God you aren't dead. I don’t think I could manage it if you were.” The relief in her voice was palpable. Mycroft retracted his hand from hers, and rested it on the top of her now gray head. 

“I have far too much to do to bother with dying.” He grumbled, his fingers running along her scalp. “Besides, who else would tell you who cheated on those ridiculously easy tests you hand out?” Matilda let out a bark of laughter. 

“I knew that would keep you in the land of living. I told you that while you slept.” His eyes suddenly felt rather wet. 

“Well, you know me rather well, I suppose."

~0~

"Marry you?" Matilda's eyebrows rose. "Now?" 

"Well yes." He said, rolling over in their bed, stretching as if he'd only asked her if she wanted tea or coffee this morning. 

"Of course, you idiot. I already have the invitations." He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. 

"I know." 

~0~

“Children.” Mycroft’s voice sounded odd, even in his own ears. 

“Yes. Children.” 

“How common.” The smile that slowly spread on both faces canceled out the words. 

“Indeed.”


End file.
